Laurie K. Blandford: From journalist to caretaker and back; saying goodbye to Wally, the whale

Time spent with dying whales dramatic experience, even if it means missing Gators' game

Eric Hasert/Treasure Coast Newspapers
People gathered on north St. Lucie County's Avalon Beach on Sept. 1 to help take care of whales who had beached themselves.

Playing hospice to beached whales wasn't how I planned to spend college football kickoff Saturday.

My friends and I were having brunch when I received a breaking news alert on my iPhone that about 20 pilot whales washed ashore at Avalon Beach State Park on Sept. 1.

Even though I had only a couple hours before the 3:30 p.m. Gators game, my journalist instinct kicked in. I wanted to race to the scene. I needed to see it. Luckily, my friends felt the same way.

Cars lined State Road A1A near the beach, so we snuck through a private beach access and walked north. Hundreds of people were gathered around the whales, half sitting in the sand beside the animals to hold them up and half standing behind yellow caution tape with their cameras.

Now, I'm not ashamed to admit I'm not much of an animal person. I had an awesome cat for 17 years and a couple other animals throughout my 26 years, but I've never before done anything to help animals in any way.

But when we walked along the waterline, well beyond the tape, and among the people running back and forth with buckets of ocean water for the whales, I felt conflicted.

As a journalist, I'm trained to be observant, unbiased and not part of the news. I started to take photos because, well, I'm a journalist. But then something in me snapped. I needed to help these poor whales on my favorite beach.

My friends and I asked the Red Cross volunteers what we could do. They said grab a bucket, and I hauled gallons of water up the sand to pour slowly on the drying whales for the next hour.

I called my dad, more to tell him I didn't know how I was going to pull myself away to watch the game with him than what I actually was doing. He told me there were more important things in life than football, and I felt at ease to stay.

We quickly learned the whales, minus five babies, were going to be sedated and, if they didn't die naturally, euthanized on the beach.

Even though the experts from Harbor Branch warned us to stay away from the tails because the whales tend to thrash when they die, nothing could have prepared us for the awful sound and sight of the smack of their skin on the wet sand. It physically pained me.

Since I stuck to hauling water to different whales, I never got attached to just one. Well, except Wally, the whale I kept coming back to and even knelt beside to speak to as he died. I just wanted him to stay calm and not feel any pain.

As Wally passed, I actually watched the light leave his eye. His mouth slightly opened, and he rolled on his side. The man holding him up for the past several hours placed his hand on Wally's black, sleek skin and said goodbye. I touched his nose and did the same.

It reminded me of holding my grandma's hand as she was sedated for her final days. I wanted to cry, especially after seeing so many other volunteers break down after their whales died, but I never broke.

We knew the whales beached themselves for a reason, probably because they were sick and possibly because of human influences. I was too busy hauling water and pouring it on the whales to think about what we were doing at the time. In the end, I'm thankful I could have been there to make those whales as comfortable as possible as they passed away.

I made a conscious decision to be a part of the news that day. And it will be an experience I never forget.